


Wake Up

by digitalcatnip



Category: PAYDAY (Video Games)
Genre: But it's not written in an AU, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Some Alternate Universe action, Written before details of Hoxton's breakout were released, it'll make sense I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 21:38:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13420152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digitalcatnip/pseuds/digitalcatnip
Summary: The crew bust Hoxton out of prison, but things don’t go as planned.





	Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

> Pain, round two! Originally posted on Tumblr in 2014, edited very minimally to correct typos, etc. At the time in Tumblr's fandom there was a kind of "collectively agreed-upon canon" since there were very little details given in the game itself, so this follows that which was mostly set up by me in Kevlar Soul and others in the fandom. Also, I am not a doctor. I do my research but sometimes you gotta suspend disbelief for the sake of a good story ok.
> 
> Some additional information: My dog is red and white and is named Hoxton. I liked tossing in little references to him sometimes in fics. He is six years old as of December 2017 and loves to steal things and run in circles so someone (other dogs) will chase him. They can never catch him. People at the dog park thing his name is Houston, which is...amusing.
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr @cataouatche !

* * *

 

 

                “Hoxton, wake up!”

                Hoxton sat bolt upright. That voice did not belong to his regular guards, or to anyone in his cell block.  Slowly, Hoxton turned around, and to his surprise he saw the stitched mouth of Wolf’s mask grinning at him, a familiar red drill in one gloved hand, the smoking cell door in the other.  “Hurry up, before someone comes over here!”

                Hoxton jumped up off of his cot, and ran to the door.  Bain had come through, finally.

                Around the corner, Dallas, Chains, and some twat with Hoxton’s mask on greeted him in professional silence, and ushered him down an empty hallway.  Hoxton became aware that Chains was carrying a heavy bag, and that a small device had been glued to the floor in one corner.  That would definitely cause some activity in the morning.

                Hoxton and his crew traveled through corridors that Hoxton did not even know existed.  This prison was not quite as extensive as the one he’d been in before, but it was still big enough for Hoxton to have not seen most of the areas in it.  He admired his friends (and that one asshole,) for their planning and knowledge of the building.

                They seemed close to getting out quietly, when the new guy suddenly jerked the left and fired his pistol at the wall.  “Shit,” he hissed, and Hoxton saw his jaw tighten behind his ( _his_ ) mask.  A second later, a siren started blaring.  “I forgot about that camera, god dammit.”  The accent was American.

                Dallas groaned.  “Plan B, then.”

                Wolf reached in his bag of goodies and tossed a ballistics vest and a pistol to Hoxton.  Hoxton threw the vest over his head, and cocked the gun.

                The crew paused momentarily, listening to Bain’s voice in their ears.  It was bizarre being left out like this, and Hoxton felt uncomfortable and blind.

                “This way,” Dallas said, and everyone followed him around a corner, right into a guard.  Dallas smacked him over the head with his gun butt, then put a round in his temple to keep him down.   He looked up at Hoxton.  “We need to get to an outside wall.  Sorry, I forgot you don’t have a comm system.”

                Hoxton nodded, and glanced over his shoulder.  So far, there was nothing, but the security desk knew where they were and it wouldn’t be long before the place was swarming with big guards with bigger guns.   This light vest wouldn’t do much against a couple rounds of buckshot at ten feet.

                The outside walls were easy to find.  Instead of drywall, they were simply painted cinderblocks.

                Wolf dropped his bag in front of a wall, and set to work.  Everyone else made a circle around him, guns at the ready for anyone who came by.   Hoxton found himself next to his imposter.

                “We’re going to need to have a talk when this is over, mate.”

                He saw the American swallow harshly.

                On Dallas’ side, two guards stepped around the corner.  While they were easily dispatched, Dallas knew they would be followed very soon.

                “Wolf, can’t you go any faster?”  Dallas hissed.

                “I am going as fast as I can, Dallas.”

                In truth, Wolf’s hands were shaking so hard he was having trouble rigging the explosives to the wall.  He hadn’t seen his best friend in two years, and he wanted nothing more than to throw everything to the floor and hug Hoxton so hard his ribs snapped.  But, duty calls.

                Finally he had wired the hunks of C4 and turned on the detonator.  “Everyone move!”

                Something was wrong.  The detonator light was flashing too fast.  Everyone was else was well protected, but Hoxton just had a vest on, no ear plugs, no mask.  Wolf threw himself into the smaller man, smashing him against the opposing wall, shielding him with his body.  Wolf clapped his hands over Hoxton’s ears just in time for the explosives to detonate, bathing the hallway in fire.

               

 

 

                “Time to get up, sunshine.”

                Hoxton opened his eyes, wincing at the light.  His head was pounding, and his entire body felt sore.  After taking a moment to adjust his eyes, Hoxton realized he was in an unfamiliar building, lying on the couch.  He was still in his prison jumpsuit, but the fabric was blackened.

                “Where am I?” Hoxton asked blearily.

                “Welcome home, little buddy,” Chains said, patting Hoxton gently.  “You made it out.”

                Hoxton laid his head back.  “Fucking finally.”  Then he remembered something, and sat up.  “'Ey, where’s the shitbag who’s wearing my mask?  I need to have a chat with ‘im.”

                Dallas looked like Hoxton had just punched him in the gut.  Wolf and Chains diverted their eyes.

                “He didn’t make it out,” Wolf said softly.

                Hoxton huffed.  “Serves him right.  I should smack every single one of you for letting him use my mask and my name.  Two god damn years you let him do it; I hadn’t even been gone six months and you’d already replaced me, ungrateful sons of two-quid whores.”

                Dallas turned suddenly around and walked into the other room, head down.

                “What’s his problem?”

                Chains dropped his voice.  “The uh, other Hoxton…was his brother.”

                “So?  He just got taken in, right?   You let me get taken in; it obviously wasn’t that big of a deal to you.”

                Hoxton noticed tears spring to Wolf’s eyes.

                “Hoxton, he’s dead,” Chains corrected.

                “Oh.”  Hoxton suddenly felt bad.  He may be a murderer and a thief, but insulting someone’s dead family was too low even for him.  “How old was he?”

                “Younger than you.”

                Hoxton sat in silence.  After a long moment, Chains stood up.

                “I need to go check on him,” he glanced at Wolf.  “You two need to talk.”            

                Wolf was sitting on the couch across from Hoxton, his head in his hands.

                “What do we need to talk about?” Hoxton asked, arms crossed. 

                “Do you really think we just left you behind?” Wolf’s voice was muffled within his hands.

                “It sure fucking feels like it.  You didn’t try to come back for me; you let me sit in prison for _two years_ , not even a letter, nothing.  You immediately took on another member, and gave him my god damn mask and my god damn name.  How do you expect me to feel after all that?”  Hoxton felt his temperature rising.

                Wolf was quiet for several seconds.  “We fell apart without you.”  He lifted his head, looking Hoxton in the eyes.  “I had to be the sharpshooter.  I forgot the check the roofs and I almost got Dallas killed.  We told you jokes and talked to you in our headsets for weeks.  We bought you food for months.”

                Hoxton felt a lump growing in his throat.

                “Bain brought the kid to us.  It was just a fluke he was Dallas’ brother.  He was decent enough of a sniper, but he was really good at being quiet.  We didn’t have any gear for him.  He had to use yours.  Out of habit we would call out for Hoxton, and he would reply, because he didn’t know better. “

                “Wolf…”

                “I packed all of your shit up because nobody else could touch it.  I brought your god damn purple cow thing and everything.”

                Hoxton noticed the stack of boxes against the wall.  Wolf’s name was written on twice as many as the others’.

                “We did everything we could to get you back.  Dallas stayed up all night screaming at Bain do something, and when Bain told him he couldn’t do anything Dallas tried to find a way on his own.  He even considered going back to his mob connections.  It was just too dangerous to try to get you at the time.  We needed more time, more of a reputation, to get the attention of someone who could help.  We went through hell to impress the guy who got you moved.”

                Hoxton was speechless.

                Wolf inhaled sharply.  “I spent the last year watching you die in my sleep, night after night.  I stopped sleeping.  I started smoking.”  His voice was a growl.  “Don’t you ever say that we did not try.”

 

 

                “You sit with him ‘til he wakes up, I have to take a piss.”

                Hoxton was lying on a sleeping bag in the safe house.  His head hurt still, and he felt nauseated.  As he sat up, he realized he was still in his clothes, and a glass of water was on the floor next to him.  Wolf sat nearby, knees to his chin, arms crossed in front of his legs.

                “Oh Christ, mate, what happened last night?”

                “You drank too much and passed out on the floor.”

                Hoxton rubbed the back of his head.  “That explains the headache.  Why are you babysitting me?”

                “You got sick a few times.  We did not want you to choke, so someone sat with you.  It is my turn.”

                Hoxton felt embarrassed.  He vaguely remembered them throwing him a party, plenty of booze.  Hoxton hadn’t had a drink in years, and he guessed he’d also lost some of his tolerance.

                “I didn’t do anything else stupid, did I?”

                Wolf coughed.  “Ah, well, it depends on your definition of stupid.”

                Hoxton groaned.  “Oh God, don’t tell me I fucked Dallas.”

                “Not exactly, no,” Wolf said.  “You did try very hard to fuck me, though.”

                Hoxton let his breath go.  “Oh, that’s a relief. “

                “A relief?”  Wolf seemed confused.

                “Oh sure.  I actually like you.”

                Wolf stared at him.

                “Please don’t tell me I said more things I don’t remember and will probably regret.”

                “A very long and tearful confession of undying love to me, that is all.”

                Hoxton felt like falling through the floor.  “Are you fucking serious?”

                “You also talked a lot about missing me in prison.”

                Hoxton sighed.  It was true.  There were far too many nights where Hoxton pressed his head against the wall and tried to bite back Wolf’s name, overcome with loneliness.

                Wolf looked uncomfortable.   “Do you remember a long time ago when you tried to make me mad by flirting with me?”

                “Yeh, it didn’t really work out.”

                “How serious were you with all of that?”

                Hoxton did not realize he’d let his mouth fall open.  “You are asking me if I actually am romantically interested in you, my best friend and coworker, whom I have sewed up holes in, and risked my life for on multiple occasions.” 

                “Yes.”

                Hoxton leaned forward and touched his lips to Wolf’s.  “Sure, why not.”

 

 

 

                “Hoxton, are you awake?”

                Wolf’s soft voice stirred Hoxton out of the dream he was having.  Upon reaching consciousness, he was aware of Wolf’s warmth next to him, his body curled around Hoxton’s.

                Hoxton rolled over onto his back.  “Yeah I’m awake.”

                Wolf hugged Hoxton closer to him.  “I didn’t say anything.”

                Hoxton buried his face in the crook of Wolf’s shoulder.   “Oh.  Must have been in my dream.”

                They lay there for several long minutes, listening to the other breathing and the soft murmur of the TV in the other room.

                “So what did you dream about?”  Wolf finally asked.

                Hoxton’s eyebrows scrunched as he tried to remember.  “I don’t know, I just remember flashes.  Something to do with you and a white room.  You were upset about something.”

                He rubbed his temples.  This headache was persisting.

                Wolf made a sad face.  “I don’t think I like this dream.”  He kissed Hoxton’s forehead.   “I’m not upset about anything.”

                “I just wish this headache would go away.  I’ve had it ever since you all busted me out.” 

                Wolf kissed him again.  “Maybe you should talk to Bain about getting a doctor, you might have scrambled something.”

                “I’m fine, really.”

                “If you say so.”

                Silence took them over once again.  Wolf ran his fingers through Hoxton’s hair, twirling the ends around his fingers.  Hoxton felt himself dozing back off to sleep, head on Wolf’s chest.

                Again, he saw the white room, heard voices talking, vaguely made out Wolf’s face, red and puffy.  He woke up with a start.

                “Did you ride the kick?” Wolf asked.

                Hoxton’s heart rate was increased.  “I had that dream again, about you being upset in a white room.”  His head was pounding.

                Wolf tapped him on the nose.  “Stop it.”

                He pushed Hoxton’s hair back away from his face and pulled him forward into a real kiss.  “ _Jag älskar dig_.”

                Hoxton leaned into his mouth, breathing him in.  “Yah all-scar die, too.”

 

 

 

                “Hoxton, wake up!”

                The frantic tone of Wolf’s voice had him bolt upright in seconds.  It was dark, sometime in the early morning.  Hoxton wondered what Wolf was upset about, but then he heard the banging on the door.  He saw the dark silhouette of Chains near the door, gun drawn.

                Chains cracked the bedroom door, peering out into the living room.  “It looks like we can make it downstairs if we hurry.”

                Silently the four slipped out of the room and down the staircase into the basement.  Dallas lifted the ladder into the closed position and locked it, just in case.  It wouldn’t be perfectly hidden, but it might buy them some time.

                “So exactly what is going on here?” Hoxton asked the cameras on the wall.

                Bain’s voice popped over a nearby speakerphone.  “Someone ratted you out to the cops.  They’re all over the front door.  You’re going to have to shoot your way out.  They’ll have sabotaged the van for sure; I’ll have to get you a chopper.”

                Hoxton felt cold hands grip his heart.  A chopper.

                Chains threw open the closet that held their armour.  Heavy ballistics vests were passed out and strapped in over pajamas.  Guns were handed out from the racks on the walls, ammunition bags thrown over shoulders.  Masks strapped over faces, not so much to protect identities, but to protect from projectiles.  Hoxton nearly cried when Wolf handed him his old M-14 – in pristine condition no less.  He had missed her so much.

                Slinging the rifle over his shoulders, Hoxton took up position around the exit stairs in the back of the basement, near the vault.   Behind him, Wolf was rigging the walls around the vault with explosives.  There was no way they were letting the authorities get their money.

                “Chopper is here!” Bain’s voice sounded through their headsets.  Wolf walked to the other side of the room and pressed the detonator.  Instantly the walls around the vault crumbled, and the chopper dropped thick steel cords down to them.  Wolf quickly hooked the vault up, while the others picked off the police that dared to look down the hole.   Gunfire plinked off of the side of the chopper, but the armoured bird didn’t even flinch.  God bless Bile.

                “Okay guys, try to get outside so he can pick you up too.”

                Chains kicked open the door to the exit stares, sending two policemen to hell with his shotgun.   They made their way up the stairs and into the storage yard of the storefront they lived under.   The wind from the helicopter tossed Hoxton’s hair in his eyes, making it difficult to see.  His heart was pounding, remembering the last time he tried to climb into a helicopter.  _That won’t happen this time, they’ve got you, you’re protected, get a grip, man_.  His head began to pound again as he stared at the ladder.

                “Hoxton, wake up!”

                Hoxton’s head whipped around to see Wolf waving his hands at him to follow.  Had he just spaced out?  They were at least ten feet ahead of him.  Hoxton darted off after them, coming up alongside Wolf, who was shoving a sentry across the concrete, face tightened.

                “I won’t let them take you away again,” he growled.

                Hoxton realized he was breathing heavily.

                Wolf hugged him tight.  “I’ll go behind you this time.  You won’t fall.”  A kiss to the forehead, then he shoved Hoxton at the helicopter’s ladder.

                The world was swimming in Hoxton’s vision.  His headache was excruciating.  Hand over hand, foot over foot, he struggled on the ladder, breaths coming in rapid bursts.  He heard Dallas calling to him from somewhere above.    Wolf’s hands gently pushing at Hoxton’s feet to keep going.

                Gunfire threated to split Hoxton’s head open.  The cops had made it through the front of the building and into the yard, and they were determined this time to bring them down.

                Wolf turned around, returning fire into the authorities, his voice like a war cry.  “ _Vilse_ _du_ _jävlar_ _!”_

                Hoxton glanced down, making sure Wolf was still hanging on.

                Wolf looked up at him, and Hoxton was certain there was an evil smile behind that mask.  Wolf enjoyed this far too much sometimes.

                “I’m fine, just wake -“ Wolf started, turning to face Hoxton.

                The masks that Wolf had designed were effectively bulletproof, at least against small arms.  The base was thick welded steel, with a stainless plate that snapped over the top.  They were easily replaced if one got busted up too badly; Wolf had dozens in the basement.

                The world slowed down as Hoxton watched the bullet smash into the side of Wolf’s mask, shattering the stainless plate into a million pieces.  A huge crack opened across the steel base, and Hoxton caught a glimpse of Wolf’s bright blue eye through it.

                The world returned to normal speed in time for Hoxton to watch Wolf’s head snap awkwardly to the side, red spray falling down to the ground below

                Hoxton’s stomach lurched.  It was happening all over again.  He reached out for Wolf’s hand, but someone caught him by the vest and hauled him upwards.  Dallas wrapped his arms around Hoxton, bracing himself for inevitable attempt to jump out of the chopper.  Hoxton fell limp in his arms.  There was no point in trying to save him now.

 

 

 

 

 

                “Hey, get up.”

                Dallas’ voice sounded rougher than usual.  Hoxton opened his eyes to see his leader standing over him, eyes red.  They were in a hotel room, the sun just beginning to peek through the windows.   Hoxton briefly wondered why they weren’t at the safe house, then reality punched him in the chest and he remembered.

                Wolf was dead.

                “We need to leave.”

                “Where are we going?” Hoxton asked.

                Dallas shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Away.  Out of D.C.  I’m done with the capitol.”

                Hoxton sat up and pulled his hair back.  He noticed there were four suitcases on the floor.  “What is that?”

                Dallas swallowed hard.  “Wolf’s stuff.  I figured you might want it…I know you two were close.”

                “Yeah.  Close.”  Hoxton felt empty.

                Slowly he walked over to the extra suitcase, unzipping it to check the contents.  It was mostly clothes, shoes, a gray case labeled “SNTL.”  Hoxton felt something sharp in the front pocket of the suitcase, and unzipped it to reach inside.  He pulled out a jagged piece of metal, painted a glossy red.

                Hoxton nearly choked.  “This…”

                “Bain had someone pick up the pieces after we escaped.”  He sighed.  “I figured you might want something to remember him by.”

                Hoxton was struggling to hold back tears.  They only had a few weeks together.  It was not near long enough.

                He felt Dallas’ hand on his shoulder.  “Come on buddy, we need to go.”

               

                  

 

                “It’s time to wake up.”

                Hoxton opened his eyes and saw Wolf standing over him.  “You’re going to be late.”

                Hoxton’s mouth fell open.  “What?”

                Wolf rolled his eyes at him and walked out of the room.  Hoxton sat up, looking around.  This was not the safe house.  In fact, this looked like a house where normal people would live, with a yard, and a bed with a frame, and no war room in the basement.  He was lying in a big bed on an expensive-feeling mattress, covered by a plush duvet.   There were curtains on the windows.  Hoxton’s M-14 was lovingly hung on the wall in a glass case that looked like it needed dusting.

                Hoxton got out of bed and pulled on a pair of pajama pants from the dresser (how did he know which drawer held pajamas?) and walked out of the bedroom into the hallway.  The hallway was adorned with photos of he and Wolf, a red and white dog, and a group shot of the crew together on a boat.

                 He walked into the living room, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the windows.  The dog from the photos rushed to greet him, tail wagging furiously.  Hoxton patted the dog’s head and looked around curiously.  There were more photos on the mantle above the fireplace of him and Wolf, one of Hoxton and the dog, one of Dallas and someone Hoxton did not recognize.  Above the mantle were hung two familiar masks, one with a large grin and pink eyes, the other a stitched mouth and painted like blood. 

                Wolf walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around him, kissing the back of his head.  “ _Jag älskar dig_.”

                “ _Jag älskar dig_ ,” Hoxton replied absently, surprised at how easily the words rolled off of his tongue.  He had never been that good at saying anything in Swedish, even though he practiced almost daily.  Wolf made it a point to only speak to him in Swedish sometimes, to keep Hoxton accustomed.  Regardless, he’d never been anything close to fluent.

                “Wolf, what am I going to be late for?”

                “You don’t remember?”

                “No, I don’t,” he was beginning to grow frustrated, and maybe a little scared.

                “ _Du måste_ _vakna_.”

                Hoxton turned around.  “What?”

                “We’re leaving to DC today; you need to take Austin to daycare before we leave.”

                “Wolf, who is Austin?”

                Wolf looked at him curiously.  The dog sat at Hoxton’s feet, at rapt attention.

                “The dog is Austin, right, I knew that.”  Hoxton rubbed at his temples.  He was suddenly aware of his headache again.  “Wait, why would we go to DC?  Haven’t we caused enough damage there?”

                Wolf laughed.  “While you did drink too much and get into a fight with Nathan, I do not think it was enough to say you ‘caused damage.’  I am pretty sure they will let us back in for a weekend.”

                Hoxton’s head throbbed.  What in the hell was going on?  Why was Wolf standing here in a robe, speaking to him like they’d been married for twenty years?  Why was he even alive?  Why did they have a house, and a dog?   Not to mention he’d dreamed about the white room again that night.

                “Wolf this is going to sound really weird, but-“

                Wolf gave him a look.  “You need to wake up.  You know that’s not how you say my name.  You haven’t called me Wolf since we were in college.”

                College?

                “I’m sorry, my head is killing me.  Ulf,” Hoxton vaguely remembered the name from somewhere deep in his memory.  “I had that dream again.  Where there’s a white room and you’re upset.”  He rubbed his temples again.

                “Are you okay, Jim?  Do you need some medicine?  You should wake up and have some coffee.”

                Hoxton stared at Wolf.  “Why do you keep saying that?”

                “Saying what?”

                “That I need to wake up.  I am awake, I’m right here, awake, talking to you.”

                “No you aren’t.”

                Hoxton felt fear prickling the back of his neck. “Yes I am!  I’m right here!”  He reached out to grab Wolf’s hand, but his fingers slipped right through.  Horrified, he stared down at the floor, which had turned from hardwood to concrete, the house into a cell.  He tried to look through the bars, but they were electrified, and he yelped when he touched them.  He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he saw Wolf sticking his head out of a hole in the cell wall.  He put a finger to his lips.

                “Wake, up, Hox.”

                “Why does everyone keep saying that to me?” Hoxton said, his voice rising in volume.  “I’m awake!”

                Wolf looked at him pleadingly.  “Please, Jim, wake up.”

                “I am awake!  I am awake!  I am right here, I am awake, I can see you, why do you keep asking me to wake up?”

                Wolf grabbed his hand.  “I need you to wake up.”

 

 

 

                Hoxton’s eyes flashed open.   He was lying in a white room, afternoon sun filtering through blinds.  He heard people talking in the distance, the buzz of an intercom.   He was faintly aware of needles in his arms, a pulse monitor on his finger.  The beep of machinery.  Warm hands on his own.

                Hoxton looked down to see Wolf, head on the bed near Hoxton’s legs, back rising and falling softly, his hands clamped around Hoxton’s own.

                “Wolf?”

                The Swede woke up with a start.  Hoxton could instantly tell that he hadn’t gotten much sleep.  His eyes had dark circles under them, and they were bloodshot. 

                “Wolf, I had the weirdest dream.”

                Hoxton was immediately engulfed in Wolf’s arms.  The big man was shaking, his breaths coming in raspy bursts.  “Hoxton, you woke up.  _Jag trodde att jag_ _hade_ _förlorat dig_.”

                ”I was just asleep, mate, no need to get all emotional about it.”

                Wolf’s voice was shaking as hard as his arms.  “You were asleep for three days.”

                Hoxton stared at the ceiling.  Three days.

                “I tackled you before the C4 went off…you hit your head on the wall.  We had to drag you out to escape.  When you didn’t wake up by the time we’d reached safety, we took you to the hospital.”  Wolf paused.  “They were worried you weren’t going to wake up, but sometimes you would talk to me.  So I talked back to you.  I don’t know if it helped.”

                Hoxton patted his friend’s hands.  “I heard you, sometimes, I think.”

                Wolf flushed.  “I hope you didn’t hear everything.  I got carried away a few times.”

                Hoxton lay his head back on the pillow.  “Wolf, do you remember, before I got taken in, how I used to flirt with you to make you mad?”

                “Yeah, your plan kind of backfired on you though,” Wolf smiled.

                Hoxton looked into Wolf’s eyes, still as blue as they always were.  “What if I told you I was actually serious about it all?”

                “I would tell you that I knew all along.”


End file.
